


Happiness In Red

by larry_my_life



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Fifth Year, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, One Shot, Sad Harry, Self Harm, homophobic, sad draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5252252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larry_my_life/pseuds/larry_my_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco accidentally gets a glimpse of Harry's hand and mistakes <em>'I must not tell lies'</em> as self harm scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is placed in the beginning of 5th year.

After Harry's first detention with Umbridge, he couldn't help to stare at the back of his hand. Even though Harry's hand stung, he couldn't feel it compared to the hatred burning in his chest. Harry couldn't even stand to stare at pink without getting malicious and annoyed.

His second detention was exactly like the last one. But, this time, his hand became irritated from writing _“I must not tell lies"_ repeatively in his skin, leaving red, angry marks across his hand.

Once he left Umbride's office, his hand was cherry red.

Harry's third detention passed in the same way as the previous two, expect that after two hours the words _"I must not tell lies"_ did not fade from the back of Harry's hand.

The pause in the quill scratching made professor Umbridge look up.

"Ah," she said softly, moving around her desk to examine his hand herself. " _Good_. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it? You may leave for tonight."

Harry never even considered the possibility that there might be another teacher he hated more than Snape, but as he walked back towards Gryffindor Tower, imaging Umbridge's ugly pink face, he had to admit he has found a contender. _Who the hell does she think she is??_ , he thought, as he trotted up the staircase.

Harry could feel his anger pouring in his eyes.

_She won. She's marked you just like Voldemort did._

Harry dug his fingernails harder into his palm, his blood rushing to his head. 

He knew this painful ache in his chest, the ache right before he cried. But Harry was refusing to let the tears fall. 

But the more Harry tried to stay calm, the more light headed he became. Harry grabbed at his throat, — he couldn’t breath. He couldn’t breath.

 _'Calm down, calm down, you have to calm down,'_ Harry told himself

But he scratched his neck, begging with any sort of prayer that he would exhale the breathe out of his chest. He gasped for air, incapable of breathing out. 

In complete panic, in the corner of his eye, he spotted a bathroom. He bursts through the darkly lit bathroom, covering his mouth with his hand, begging, pleading he won't make any noise.

_don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry_

But within seconds of being in the bathroom, he let’s the painful breathe caught in his stomach out, coming out as a shaky morbid sob. 

His whole body trembled, helplessly grabbing hold of the faucet. He was too weak to do this anymore. Anything. Harry wants to scream in pain, shaking so violently it scared himself. He couldn’t control it.

He closes his eyes, begging for the shaking to stop, to think happy, think of everyone who cared for him.

Harry's not sure how long he stayed in that bathroom. But maybe 5, maybe 10 minutes later, he feels better. Numb. He's forced to look back up at the mirror, disgusted at his puffy, red-eyed, pathetic mess he is.

Harry feels gross. Incapable. Exposed.

He wipes at his face, and— ohmymerlinwhyamibleeding.

Harry looks down at his hand, staring surprisingly at dried blood on the back of his hand. He must have not noticed, as he glanced down at the blood drops of the floor. 

It clicks. The blood was from “I must not tell lies,” written in his hand, dripping blood onto the floor.

He stares, almost admiring the blood on the floor. With another look at the mirror, he leaves his dried blood on the ground, wondering if anyone will figure out it’s from The Boy Who Lived.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is to much like his mother, and Draco is to little like his father.

The bell rang just as Harry's bag ripped, paper and ink sprawling out, scattering across the floor. Harry cursed, shuffling down to pick it up, as Ron and Hermione got up from their seats.

Harry attempted to quickly fudge his papers back into his bag. But Ron and Hermione stood next to him, guilt written all over their faces.

"I need to quickly study for my next test," Hermione complied, "so... I'll see you soon?" She paused, walking across Harry's mess, muttering an apology.

"Help me with this Ron," Harry motioned to his mess, reaching over to grab a quill.

Harry looked hopefully up at Ron as he heard the door close behind Hermione, but to no surprise, he had the same awkward expression.

"Quidditch practice is in an hour... And I thought I could get a... A head start, you know...?"

Ron followed behind Hermione, Harry frowning as he picked up his last few quills off the ground. By the time he had his whole bag back together, the whole classroom was deserted. He huffed, feeling sour on how his friends had left him, and pushed his way out to the corridor.

Yet Harry was suddendly ripped by the arm into a classroom. He slammed straight into a desk, aching at the blow.

Before he could even move, the door was slammed shut. Harry snapped his gaze up, not even surprised.

"What the hell Malfoy—"

Harry was already pulling out his wand when Draco surprisingly threw his wand over.

"I'm not here to fight you, Golden Boy," Draco said flatly. 

Harry caught Draco's wand, admiring the wood before suspiciously glancing up to Malfoy.

"Then, what do you want?" Harry spitted back.

"No— you have this all wrong," Malfoy paused, glaring out from the corners of his eyes. "I am not going Letting you get out of here until you tell me what happened."

Draco crossed his arms, sternly setting his ground between Harry and the door. 

Harry wanted to spit back at Malfoy _I'm the one with the wands you idiot..._ but his curiosity gave in. There was something.... .

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, replying sharply, "Tell you _what_?"

"Your hand," Draco cautionally said, an unreadable look on his face. Draco’s hair fell over his face, his eyes darkening.

Harry must have not heard him right. "What did you say?"

"Your hand, Potter."

Harry glanced at his hands, wincing at the sight of the words “I must not tell lies”. He could have sworn he heard Draco wince too. 

_They’re probably going to scar,_ he realizes.

"It's was an accident—" he lied, being cut off.

"Bullshit," Draco hissed, gesturing angrily for the back of Harry’s hand, "show me your hand."

Harry pulled back, but Draco had grabbed Harry's forearm and pulled the back of Harry's hand up level with his eyes. 

Harry yanked his arm back, "What the hell do you think you're doing Malfoy?"

But Draco didn't hear a word he said. In a numb gaze, he made eye contact, sounding almost like a plea, "Harry?"

Harry froze, a cold sad chill paralyzing his spine. _Draco’s never said my name before._ It was always “Potter,” “stupid Potter,” “Golden Boy.” 

But— he said _Harry._

“What is it from?” Draco mumbled.

Harry hesitated. Harry would have easily told Malfoy to screw off— told him he was a creep. But Malfoy was concerned, actually concerned about him. Yet, Harry lied anyways, telling Malfoy that someone jinxed him.

"If you're going to lie, you could at least make it more convincing," Draco shook his head.

"Just drop it," Harry threatened, too impatient and tired to explain anything to Draco. He didn't owe Draco anything. 

Harry slammed Draco's wand on the desk and pushed Malfoy out of the way. Harry expected Draco to do something— grab his arm, jinx him, threaten him. But he did nothing as Harry walked away.

-

Harry hadn't been listening to Snape's lecture for the past 35 minutes; which wasn't anything new. But a kick in the shins brought his attention back.

"Ow," Harry groaned, Hermione turned back in her seat, "what was that for?"

"You just seem a little off Harry," Hermione complied, worry filling her eyes, "How’re you feeling?"

Harry shrugged, "I feel the same way I always do." He was surprised Hermione was talking to him in the middle of class during lecture.

"That is what's worrying me." Hermione said flatly, turning back around to the front of the class.

Harry blinked. _What was that suppose to mean?_

-

"Don't you think it's weird Draco has suddenly has all his attention on you?" Ron whispered, "do you think he's planning anything??"

Harry thought for a moment.

Hermione rolled her eyes, a snicker caught in her throat. "Have you not been paying attention for the past 5 years? Draco has _always_ has had an obsession with Harry."

"Obsession?" Harry gulped, "I don't know if that's the right word for it..."

"Obsession seems like the right word," Hermione emphasized, "it’s really the only word all the school can come with."

Harry spit out, "Wait, _the school_??"

Harry couldn't believe this. How could people say that?

"Well," Ron added in, "it does kinda seem accurate..."

Harry scoffed, "No it's not," sinking into his chair, "I'm not obsessed about a dumb blonde git, and he isn't obsessed with me. That would... that's just _not_ what's going on."

“Then what’s going on?” Hermoine persisted.

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing some things about you guys...” Ron eyes bulged, shaking his head.

"Well I—" Harry sighed, pulling at his hair, "He did pulled me into a classroom."

"What?!" Ron yelled.

Hermione's shushed him, "Shut up Ron!" She flusterly stared dowm at Harry, "What happened?"

"Did he try to pull something?" Ron added, now interested in the conversation.

"We just..talked. I don't know how to explain it, but it was definitely almost like the most normal conversation we've had...?" Harry offered, not sure of himself.

"You can just have a bloody hell 'normal conversation' with Malfoy," Ron bellowed.

Hermione hit his head, shushing him, "Be quiet Ron." She rounded back to Harry, "Why did he bring you in there?"

Harry shrugged nervously, playing his hand anxiously. "Beats me." Like hell he would tell them.

Ron laughed. Hermione tapped her foot.

"You know you're an awful liar, right, Harry?"

Harry fake smiled at them both, sheepishly scratching his head.

"Why'd he bring you in there Harry?" Ron repeated, leaning in.

Harry shrugged again, sweating, "Oh, ahh–"

"—wait," Hermione interrupted, raising her hand to shush Harry. She narrowed her vision by the side of the book shelf, raising her hand.

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

A book flung out, hitting a girl overhearing one row away. It hit her straight in the head, a loud thump echoing through the library.

"What the hell Hermione?"

Lavender Brown poked her head through the bookshelf, holding her head.

Without another word, Lavender Brown glared at Hermione and left the library.

Harry turned to Ron, "Was she listen into our conversation..?"

"Yeah." 

Harry looked at his thumbs, "Oh."

"Anyways," Hermione huffed, settling back in her chair, "tell us why Malfoy pulled you in a classroom."

Harry shifted in his chair, feeling his heart pound through his body. His face strained, feeling his throat close up. 

"I don't want to talk about it."

-

Harry pulled out his book and quill, yawning, glancing sleepily up at Snape's crooked nose. The room was dark, and Harry had no tolerance to staying awake when he's tired. Snape spoke in the same monotone voice, Harry wondering if he could get away with falling asleep.

Harry shook his head, _this is Snape's classroom, he would probably behead me, or make me grow a blimey tail on my face..._

"Turn to page 527—"

The door to the classroom snapped opened, a student jogging over to their desk.

"Late are we, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, Harry turning around curiously.

 _He would have docked a Gryffinfor 10 points for being late_ , Harry thought irritatingly.

Draco mumbled an apology, and Snape continued to talk, all going over Harry's head. 

He glanced back again at the blonde, noticing with a sudden paralyzingly stop that _Draco had been crying._

Harry gulped, mortified. It was obvious he's been crying. Sometimes– most times, Harry can admit he's kinda oblivious to things around him. But the pink flushed cheeks and stuffy nose made it too clear that Malfoy had been crying.

"Repeat what I just said to the class, Mr. Potter," Snape yelled, catching his attention.

"What?" Harry turned around.

"Just as I thought. 10 points from Gryffindor," Snape hissed.

-

By the time class ended, he'd given his poorly done potion to Snape, quickly catching up with Ron and Hermione.

"Did you see Draco crying?" He whispered, making sure his peers couldn't hear him.

Hermione nodded, "Yes."

A knot formed in Harry's throat, a sickening feeling swirling in his stomach, "Why was he crying?"

They declined some more stairs, a loud group of boys passing them, all pointing at Harry. Harry averted his eyes away from them, trying to pretend like they didn't exist.

"I dunno, just go ask him or something," Ron offers sarcastically, "I'm sure he won't bite Harry. Since you had a normal conversation or whatever."

Harry ignored Ron, curiosity tingling at his finger tips. Maybe asking him would be the right way to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be updating weekly and I honestly think this chapter is really cute THANK YOU FOR SPENDING YOUR TIME READING MY VERY GAY FANFICTION, leave me a comment I fucking love/need feedback


	3. Chapter 3

When Harry saw Draco _cry_ , he froze. Honestly, Harry tried to erase it from his mind, but Draco’s red eyes stuck to the back of his head— because _what the hell are you suppose to do when you see your sworn enemy crying_? In fact, Harry thought he'd be a little happy to see Draco Malfoy in pain. 

Because after all, Malfoy is nothing to him, so what does it matter?

But it mattered. So much that it kept Harry awake at night. Harry stared blankly up at the ceiling, wonder how his harsh, cruel, and selfish bully turned so vulnerable.

It got so bad that whenever he'd glance at the Slytherin table, he'd find the blonde instantly. Even seeing Draco normal made him sick to his stomach— meaning Ron would finish his jello.

After two weeks of following Malfoy and watching him constantly, he realized Draco was acting different. And If Harry was being honest, the worst part was that he didn't know _why_ Malfoy was crying even after following him for weeks. Well really, it bothered him for multiple reasons. 

When Harry finally got enough courage to go talk to the damn stubborn Slytherin, it was like he fell off from the face of the Earth. Draco Malfoy was no where to be found.

That was until a week later, he glanced outside and saw Draco sitting by the oak tree. Just sitting there, slouching over his books with his legs crossed. A _Malfoy,_ a sick, twisted, vile human being was sitting criss Cross apple sauce in the soft grass.

"Where are you going Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugs, "Outside. For a walk."

—

"Could I sit there?" Harry tentatively asks. 

Draco must have not noticed him, because he jumped at the sound of his voice. The blonde turned his gaze to Harry, opening his mouth to reply— but, before Draco answers him, Harry sat sharply down next to Draco, not letting him have a choice. 

"Oh yes, make yourself at home," Draco glumly replies, moving his books over to make room for Harry.

All the practices and fantasized conversations are gone. Harry gulps, staring down at the grass and pretend like he’s not there because, _‘oh shit, oh shit, I don’t remember why I’m here and now the silence is dragging on oh shi—‘_

“What’re you doing here Potter?”

Harry can’t think. So he looks for something.

"Why the bloody hell are you wearing long sleeves?" Harry outburst, almost sighing in relief he found something, "It's like 4 million degrees outside."

Draco sneers, "Are we really going to have a conversation about weather, Potter?"

"No."

" _Good._ "

"I want to talk about Potions class."

"Yes." Draco nods annoyingly, tapping his quill on his book, "Just like you can with Granger, or Weasley."

"No, I mean what happened during Potions class—"

"—you can still talk to Granger about that."

"No," Harry grits his teeth, "I'm talking about when you came into class late looking upset."

Draco stops tapping his pen, and this, Harry decides, this is it. Harry is going to die at this very moment from the wrath of Draco Malfoy. 

Draco smiles deviously, leaning dangerously close to Harry. "I have no idea what you're talking about.” 

Harry's does not appreciate how close they are, and backs up a bit.

"You _do_ know what I'm talking about," Harry scoffs.

Draco draws back out, Harry letting out a breathe he'd been holding in. They've never been that close before, and it Harry makes extremely uncomfortable.

"I'll tell you why I was upset, if you tell me about your hand." Draco offers, stretching cockily across the grass.

Harry clenches his jaw, finding Malfoy's face a little more punchable.

"Fine."

Harry hasn't told anyone yet what Umbridge does in her detentions. It's personal, not even Hermione has asked questions. He has to go to one today, he remembers. 

He tells Draco, starting from the first detention to the most recent one. Harry doesn't realize how emotional he is until his hands start to shake. He knows Draco is watching him from the corner of his eyes, a cold feeling spread through his chest. When Harry's finished explaining, he glances up at Draco.

"Your turn."

Yet Draco doesn't say anything, and stares horrified at the grass. Harry understands. Who would have a reply to a story like that?

Malfoy's voice startles him, "Why haven't you told anyone?"

Harry thinks for a moment, playing with his thumbs, mumbling out a reply. "I don't want her to know she's got to me, that she's won. That's the one thing she can't take away from me."

Draco pauses, "Do you want to know my opinion?"

"I don't think I have a choice."

"Turn Umbridge in. Stop giving me that face of shock Potter, I mean it. You're going to end up suffering more for not saying anything. It's not worth it," the blonde pulled his legs closer to his body. 

Harry inhales, a smile edging on his lips. "Never knew you cared Draco."

"I don't. And don't call me that."

Harry hides his smile, because even if Draco is an arrogant asshole, he's sometimes a nice asshole too.

"Are you going to tell me why you were crying at potions class?" Harry persists.

"Oh, hell no. I didn't actually mean my offer, I just wanted to know about your hand," Draco laughs, "I was decently surprised when you took the offer. Had no idea you were that gullible."

Within 5 minutes, Harry stomped back to the castle, Draco attempting to reassemble his book that Harry had torn in half. Sometimes things never change.

———

Harry has enough energy to make it through every class, but Potions seems to be the exception. The one class he could possibly get his head cut off for not paying attention _is_ the one class he can't pay attention in.

It's not like Harry wants to fall asleep, though Snape's boring voice doesn't help much; but he's most exhausted in that room. Probably due to the fact he has countless nightmares and _”obsessively thinks about Draco Malfoy”_.

Hermione coined the phrase _"obsessively thinking about Draco Malfoy"_ last week. It basically went down like this:

"Harry? Are you joking?" Hermione exclaimed, "Not to be rude, but all you talk to us about is Malfoy."

"That’s ridiculous! No I don't."

"—yes Harry, you do. And it's been on going since first year!" Hermione laughs.

"No, that's not the full story. Draco Malfoy has always been a problem for me, and I'm just cautious about him—"

"—Sorry Harry," Ron interrupts, grinning, "Hermione is right. You really really _really_ are obsessed with Draco Malfoy."

Now, Harry’s sitting in potions, “obsessively thinking about Draco Malfoy.” Not because he wants to know why he was balling his eyes out, because he's annoying. And conceded.

Dean, to his utter disappointment, is his potions partner. Dean doesn't even care about the potion unless Snape is near by. Snape will near the table, and Dean will suddenly add random, unmeasured ingredients in the cauldron to make it seem like we know what we were doing— which we don't. 

Ron and Hermione are partners, and although Harry spent most of the class pleading for Hermione to come help him, she ignored him.

He's on his own for this potion. That means getting the ingredient too, and that's why he's going to fail this class. Harry has no bloody idea what any of the ingredients look like, so he just follows everyone else around him. 

When Harry's last on the ingredient table, he's flustered, but not shocked. He looks down at his list, reading 10 ingredients with 9 on his plate.

"Fuck."

"Mind your language Potter," Malfoy laughs, Harry jumping at the sound of his voice.

Malfoy picks up a bowl of green spices, and Harry almost laughs— that's the one ingredient he doesn't have!

"Where did you find that?" Harry points at his bowl.

"What this? The Alihotsy?" Draco furrows his eyebrows.

"Yeah, the ali-something-sty."

_"Alihotsy."_

"Yeah whatever," Harry rolls his eyes.

Draco smirks, pointing at huge leaves, "You have to chop them up first."

Harry nods, grabbing 3 leaves (deciding that should be enough) and heads back to his station with Dean.

This class was going to be longer than usual. And much more painful.

—

Harry and Dean both failed the potion, bemusedly to Malfoy.

Snape announced one minute prior to grading that whoever gets the worst grade will have to stay after and clean up. Harry hates Snape a lot more.

It only takes 10 minutes to clean up, but with Snape breathing down Harry's back, he cleans the fastest he can. After fudging bottles in random places, he runs out of that classroom before Snape notices.

"Harry! Harry wait up!" Dean yells, Harry glancing over his shoulder.

Dean catches up, and Harry averts his attention angrily at the ground.

"Look I'm sorry Harry, I should've helped you," Dean mutters, his eyes sincere.

Harry keeps his eyes low, "That was a dick move Dean."

Dean cracks a smile, "Okay. Fair enough. I'm still sorry."

Harry wonders if he means his apology, but Dean suddenly turns back around, walking the other direction. Harry stops, "Where're you going?"

"Back to Snape's, I have to fix all the bottles that you put everywhere, otherwise Snape will kill both of us," Dean laughs.

"Oh," Harry's face heats.

"It's okay Harry," Dean pauses, offering with a laugh, "maybe I won't be such a dick after this?" 

Harry grins. It's really hard to be mad at Dean at times like this. They both wave goodbye.

Only 10 seconds after talking with Dean, Harry's grabbed by the arms and thrown into a classroom— again. Harry rubs his wrists, glaring at Malfoy’s concerned face, "Was that really necessary? To throw me in here? Again?" 

Draco mumbles an apology, rubbing the back of his neck. He licks his lips, frowning at Harry.

"Show me your hand."

The demand shocked Harry, "What?"

Malfoy rolls his eyes, tapping his feet, "Show me your hand."

Harry takes a step away from Draco. Malfoy, wasting no time, grabs Harry's arm. But Harry's fast enough to snap his hand back down.

"Those are new, Potter," Draco whispers, furrowing his eyebrows.

He'd had a detention with Umbridge 2 nights ago, but the words _I must not tell lies_ still stayed red and irritated on his hand. He couldn't do anything but stare at the ground. Heat rises to his face

"That’s why you dragged me in here? I just— like you fucking care Malfoy," Harry scoffs, pushing past Malfoy with so much force it nearly knocks Draco over.

"What is wrong with you Potter!?" Draco snaps, "I'm just trying to—"

Harry turns back to Malfoy, feeling anger building in his hands, "—to what?"

Draco shakes his head. He closes his eyes, talking quietly.

"I haven't seen you smile once this year."

Harry blinks.

“You can’t just fucking say that,” Harry scoffed, nearing the door.

“Why? Why can’t I say that?” Draco persisted.

Harry was shaking with anger. “Because— because I,” Harry turned around to Malfoy, “because I don’t know! You don’t just say things like that to someone.”

Malfoy paused.

"You don't seem happy anymore," Draco acknowledged.

Harry’s anger faded away. He felt the heat in his face fill his eyes. And the silence is left for Harry to speak, but he has nothing to say. The silence drags and Harry's still lost for words.

"I-I-," Harry starts before being cut off.

"—then I saw your hand and I thought, fuck, I thought you did it."

Harry furrows his eyebrows, “You thought I hurt myself..?" The words sounded wrong out of Harry's mouth.

He's never talked about this stuff out loud before. He knew about it, of course, but It's always been taboo or weird to talk about. 

"I don't– I didn't–," Harry shakes his head, weight sinking in his eyes.

Malfoy nods as if he understands. 

"Is that why you keep bringing me in the classroom?" 

"What?" Draco asks.

"You've dragged me in a classroom twice, and you've always been asking questions about my," he pauses, "my hand."

Draco snarls, "No Harry, I brought you in here to have a fist fight."

It takes Harry a second to realize he's joking.

"Okay," Harry says, because he's a fucking idiot and doesn't know how to talk to his rival after they just had a sentimental moment. Literally what the fuck.

Harry wants to joke and laugh at Draco for being such a girl. But Harry's body is quivering uncontrollably, because maybe he didn't tell anyone for a reason. It felt like he was back at the Dursley's again, the cold emotion of being unwanted filling his mind. He always felt numb when thinking about it.

He needs to sit down. He wants to sob into his hands, but he refuses. He will not cry, especially with Malfoy in front of him. 

Harry shakes the feeling off. Draco's staring right at him, the same curious and confused look on his face. Harry finds it uncomfortable.

"I don’t," Harry can’t finish the sentence.

“I know.”

Harry traces his scabs on his hand. They feel different now. Sadder.

“Do you have another detention with Umbridge?” Draco asks.

“No, that was my last one.”

Silence is left for Harry to think. Draco thought he was cutting himself... . 

Draco turns around and heads for the door.

“—wait!” Harry calls, Draco glancing over his shoulder, “we should, uhh, keep talking.”

Draco raises an eyebrow, “Why?”

Harry almost smacks himself, “I mean— like later. Let’s talk later.”

“When?”

“Lunch maybe?”

Draco hesitated to speak, “I can’t sit on the Gryffindor table.”

“We can eat outside. By the tree, or in the library,” Harry offers.

Draco thinks about it, “I mean, I guess.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Draco closes the door behind him as he leaves. Harry feels like an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVENT POSTED IN A YEAR, and I've completely changed the whole main idea of the story oops. if you keep posting comments about updating I'm more likely too.  
> P.s. In my defense, this chapter is as long as the two other ones


End file.
